Archive for the ‘sin’ Category

Many Americans ask what has become those rhetorical questions, “Why are Republicans pro-life? Why does the life a newborn take precedence over that of a mother? Why is abortion not an option even when the health and welfare of a child is questionable?”

We know that “pro-life” attitude only pertains up to the birth of a child. After then, they and their families are all on their own. But, why?

The answer is Biblical. It’s that commandment, “Thou shall not kill.” Breaking that commandment as well as any of the other nine sends someone’s soul the Hell.

But, surely, it would be the doctor who would pay that price, and maybe the mother, too. Let me borrow a tired euphemism of our new president and say, “Wrong!” Those Ten Commandments are in the Old Testament, written long before Jesus walked Creation in the flesh, before the promise of forgiveness through confession or grace through faith.

See, those commandments were then written by a wrathful god. That was when He (or to be fair, She) was still prone to flood the Earth.

Okay, God promised there would be no more floods. But, that one deluge was before Sodom and Gomorrah, so us mortals can’t be so trusting. Even then, He/She was still rash and not as omniscient as believers hope. God had to send an angel to investigate His/Her suspicion. And finding only one righteous soul in the city, He/She again brought destruction to the planet; a smaller devastation, to be sure, but still horrific.

So, despite a pretty rainbow and even Jesus, the distrustful faithful believe the wrath of God to this day is visited upon swaths of mortals for the sins of a few and even the one. That’s how paranoid those religious folks have become.

AIDS, 9-11, hurricanes, oil spills and droughts are modern evidence of situations in which God has lifted His/Her hand because He/She has become so disgusted with those made in His/Her image that only death quells His/Her rage. He/She used to get blood sacrifices but that was not always enough.

There is why women today are forced to give birth, why drug users are locked away instead of freed on their own recognizance, and homosexuality is disdained. It’s not just an individual’s soul that is seen at risk, rather the country itself. Because despite the love and patience of Jesus, our savior still has an angry dad/mom.

(Hell, inferring God may be a woman probably pisses Him off. Blame the opioid epidemic and shrinking middle class on that. And give Him the blood a goat, for Christ’s sake. Maybe that will help Him chill.)

Children throughout the Shur desert, Chosen and UnChosen alike, attend mandatory lessons in the same classrooms. The Church does not discriminate. There is no segregation among these people. This Saturday afternoon, the plump supplemental school teacher tells eight year old boys and girls “Our two social classes are united against bloodthirsty heathens. You do remember who they are, right? superstitious animals who destroy our cities. Evil.”

Chosen and UnChosen children alike are educated about this singular threat to the oasis parishes in which they cower. Today, a full class in the unguarded city of Gomorrah learns from a Chosen teacher “A marked difference between the composition of Church parishes is simply geographical – a majority of Chosen people live inside walled cities such as our capitol, Khetam.”

She tells them “Descendants of UnChosen workman, those men who physically built the defensive barrier, are also permitted to live behind the protection of the Wall.”

Ms. Mendel worships. “Praise the Church and its wisdom. How else would we have water?”

The examples Ms. Mendel provide are as ephemeral as unseen seas. Any nostalgia reflected in the faces of these children is merely a pining recollection inherited from their parents. A whole generation has passed since the ban had been enacted.

Difficult still, Ben queries concerning the restrictions the Church levied upon communication – all that remains is radio broadcast military bulletins and Church doctrines. “Why?”

Ms. Mendel knows what the boy is curious about. “Images are subversive, Ben. And there was that discovery of background cosmic radiation. The Church will allow no avenue into the world. The Chosen will dictate when the Mortal God will be allowed to join his creation.”

Ms. Mendel gives the kid respect he obviously lacks for his genetic superiors. Judah Ismael here is UnChosen, but his father has money. The Ismael family commands crime all throughout Gomorrah. This power makes each of them equivalent any priest in the Church beside the pontiff. The Chosen school teacher defers to the kid’s unquestionable might.

“I was going to tell you children about Lazy the Pig.”

Judah says “Go on.”

The woman clears her throat and actually presses out a frown with the palm of her hand. “Okay, all of you know how heathens lay siege to walled cities, right?”

After a breath, Ms. Mendel adds “All right, this is about a cartoon.”

“Huh?” Judah grunts. Other kids copy his response.

Ms. Mendel insists “Let me explain, this is the origin of a cartoon called Lazy the Pig. This story is in the Bible. I can petition the Church and read it to you directly. They’ll give me permission, I’m sure.”

“No,” all the kids groan.

Empowered, Ms. Mendel tells her class “This happened long after the crucifixion.”

The woman inhales, holds her breath then says “This happened about 420 AD.”

She is still stingy with her air and claims “But Masada isn’t very far from here.”

A story accompanies her exhalation.

“I don’t think any of you children have heard about the Siege of Masada but I know your parents know what happened. Masada was built on a steep hill – a mesa, really. And there was a wall around that. Well, heathens slaughtered its division of the Chosen military – for what it was in those times – and the enemy breached the wall. But they couldn’t get into the city itself.”

Judah insists “What about the pig?”

Ben wonders “Where did Masada get water?”

Ms. Mendel is quick and snaps “Lazy is why the siege came to an end. The heathens lost and the Chosen prevailed. The UnChosen did nothing to help even then.”

The woman’s outburst has no impact on the little Ismael. The boy decides he sits quietly and waits for a more complete answer. His passive demeanor prompts the teacher and Ms. Mendel continues her story.

“Heathens surrounded Masada forty months. Thank the wisdom of the Church, the Chosen had stored provisions for just that long. Food, water – they had livestock, too, but in the end the animals became diseased.”

Tamara wonders “Did the UnChosen of Masada die?”

“A few, some.”

Ben asks the teacher “What about Chosen?”

“No,” Ms. Mendel attests with a smile. “There was a miracle.”

“The Chosen are never helpless, even when we’re starved and locked behind walls. Our power manifested that day.”

“What happened?” Tamara asks but the teacher already speaks. The girl boggles at what she hears.

“The Chosen didn’t die and the heathens were running out of food, too. The enemy didn’t have stores like the Chosen of Masada but they did bring their women. The heathen impregnated their wives, aborted their babies then ate the dead fetuses. Some of them were still alive.”

Giggles and gasps divide the class.

“In the end, all either side could do is taunt each other. Heathens did something else that isn’t in the Chosen Bible, it might be in their book…”

“Their clay tablets, their mud pies,” Judah chuckles.

Ms. Mendel laughs with the boy. “If they ever learned to write.”

The woman returns to her story. “The Chosen of Masada eviscerated a sick pig – they tore out the animal’s guts because heathens have this strange idea that heaven is located in the intestines. Then the people of Masada erected the disemboweled carcass upon a cross. The beams of that cross were arranged the same as the one used when we crucified the Mortal God.”

Sometime ago in previous posts, I mentioned my sequel to Debbie’s Hellmouth. I call the book The Betulha Dohrman Legacy. Its manuscript is sitting unwrapped with a real publisher – this self-publishing stuff isn’t working for me. I have no clue where I can find a substantive fan-base.

Bitching and whining aside, I found again one my inspirations for a critical event in The Betulha Dohrman Legacy. This tragedy supposedly occurred in Nigeria, although I suspect these mutations are not uncommon. My similar phantasmagoria happens in Southern Wisconsin, outside an evil little place called Wister Town.

Warning, not for the recently fed. View at risk of your own ingestion…

Once she started making $90,000, my ex-fiancee got the idea she was too good for me. That was a strain on our relationship. She said she didn’t want to be with a man who made less money than her. Then she met a millionaire. I gave up. The woman became a whore, and a wretched one. Have you seen her? I put my dick into that so I wouldn’t go to Dante’s second plane of Hell for masturbation. Yeah, my definition of self-pleasure is merely technical but that is how Christians operate. Salvation is only a false admission away no matter what one does.

What’s her “side of the story?” I’m simply not interested. Her explanation is a waste of time – waste… she is the one of us two whom is wasteful. She wasted my time and let me stray from producing Art, from re-discovering writing. I imagine she tells herself and others anything to assuage her guilt. This is why I am not the woman’s friend. I will not be her scapegoat.

Of course, I wish misery upon her. But wishes are not reality. She’ll need to construct that suffering and bring it down upon herself. That’s the one thing she’s good at doing. Although, money seems to staunch those self-inflicted wounds. It buys love, so it must be full of special.

Why am I so bitter? I had been out of her life before I knew anything about her new romance. She broke our engagement a couple months after I had proposed marriage. I was fine never to see her dour face again. And she calls me back after half a year and I grew hopeful. Even then she was dishonest. Was she being vindictive? I left again now punished. Why did she call me back – to play some sadistic game of “what’s behind the curtain?” Did she call me back into her life just to make herself feel better?

There is a negative aspect of co-dependence. She’s professionally trained to see that. If I am to trust the woman did not intend malice, then she is blind. That is the nicest conclusion I can make. Yet, what does that reveal about her, about her skills, her qualifications? I don’t think she cares to admit these implications to herself. They are distracting, especially as cash is foremost on her mind. She dreams of money. It is the stuff of romance. I have none of it.

I’ve admitted my Pazuzu Trilogy began in parts. Originally in 2009, I had the two 120K-word books. That is, each book was approximately 120,000 words. Those books were simply called Book One…

Book Two…

Now, the silhouettes presented on this blog post are actually new and were not the covers of both books. For the sake of this narrative, the pieces of artwork here help visually mark my progress through my books. That’s why you readers are seeing them. Prints of these images are available in the Pazuzu Expressions folder in my online gallery are Deviantart – here

Once I had self-published Pazuzu Book One, I rapidly grew discontent with the whole work – lack of readers and productive feedback helped encourage that mood. Addressing that angst and the fact I still hadn’t found a job, I split my story into, first, a series of four 60K-word books then condensed and later expanded them into a trilogy. Each book now contains approximately 90K words. As of this blog post, the books are at their Eighth Revision – as marked on the first pages of each book.

In the ancient year of 2009, the last book in the Pazuzu series was called Great Commission.

Hey, I can see that last image bares a passing resemblance to a marijuana leaf. For the novice, the gross difference is a marijuana leaf has five “blades” opposed the eight wings in the artwork that my demon sprouts. The passing resemblance may hinder my marketing effort or help the artwork blend-in at the marijuana dispensaries where I left free bookmarks with the Pazuzu Trilogy home page. There is one place in Los Angeles where I have books available in the waiting area for sample reading. Marijuana dispensaries?

I’ve got a simple idea – one of myriads that ultimately compromise the complexity of my thoughts – JRR Tolkien exploded once hippies discovered his fantasies. I’d like to recreate that experience. I’ll make you medicated readers a deal – ignore that post where I promised I’d sell my vote to Republicans if they make me rich and famous, I don’t think I’m any more floppity than Mitt or his role model John Kerry.

In case you’re now distracted, I was writing to you medicated readers. My deal is a Woodstock-like experience around my Pazuzu Trilogy. Actually, more of a Jack Kerouac in Big Sur kinda deal. I’d love to have a Magic Bus and blast Dubstep through the forest. First, I need you to read my story, talk about it and make me infamous. Spread rumors if you have to.

Prior to my Pazuzu Trilogy, after college and once I moved to California, I began exploring Judea-Christian mythology with my paintings and drawings. I took especial interest in the origin of sin, its passage through generations and the consequence of evil greed brings. For the longest time, I was focused exclusively on building the monstrous population of my mythology. That finally broke in 1995 when I had time, resources and interest for doing Art. Those years in Burbank and North Hollywood, California embraced the years my themes coalesced. Today, I feel more compelled to write my stories, but I can never say I won’t return to drawing and painting – I have had a meek urge to try sculpture for years.

I have images of the artwork I created and have now crafted videos for an audience I hope are interested in my stories. I began painting my stories, but my nomadic, Spartan lifestyle necessitated I lose them. Most of the paintings and drawings are lost, physically abandoned or given away. I have photos and have digitally-manipulated them so that they make good-looking prints. I invite viewers to see my prints at Deviantart– and maybe by a postcard.

Sin – Forgiveness – Harrowing of Hell

The paintings in these slides explore the temptations of Adam and Eve. Satan appears and the fell beast consorts with Lilith – Adam’s first wife. Satan has the goat-like aspects of the Greek Pan. Jesus appears to Doubting Thomas, presents tricks and the church is erected. The resurrected messiah then harrows Hell.

Passage of Sin

In these slides and paintings, I intimate sin as passed through wealth and Judas Iscariot immediately passes along his load upon his suicide.

Consequence of an Immoral Life

The paintings in this video implicate a worldwide apocalypse is the consequence of a sinful, immoral life. Today, in real life, the End of humankind is predicted and believed as real as my surreal images.

A Codex of Malevolence, by Matthew Sawyer, is a short story collection that tracks the spread of weird and unholy evil from Wister Town, Wisconsin. Witches and the pagan religion become entwined in these creepy tales of gore. Witness the horror invade Wisconsin, incorporate in Texas and gain entrance to California.

The stories therein include:

Babies Kill the Unborn A RockumentaryBabies Kill the Unborn: A Rockumentary documents the launch of the world tour by the rock band “Venger of Unborn.” Father Mackis knows a demon drives the success of the band and the pious clergyman meets the “Venge” at their concert in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Fiery ruin ensues.

Circular Heir
Mary Gantz wins a contest for her unborn son to inherit eight billion dollars upon the death of a rich benefactor, Aido Yasu. The condition to qualify for the fortune is that Mary needs to consume the ashes of Mr. Yasu’s brain before her baby is born.

Bullish Flavor
Reporters from the Binger Evening Times printed newspaper attend a tour of the Minotaur Meats slaughterhouse and meat packaging plant. Despite specifying she doesn’t want to witness the slaughter and butchering of mythical minotaurs, Erin Hofstetter and her photographer, Pat Hendrickson, Pat still needs to get her photographs!

Garnish
Albert and Lorie Motte, a middle-aged farming couple, receive a package – the ashes of a dead friend, Donny. Donny requested he be disposed in the Nile River – too far for the Mottes to go, so the Mississippi will have to do.

Disaster at Minotaur Meats
Mr. Brinks, the owner and operator of Minotaur Meats, has work for his two adopted nephews. The teenage boys, Doug and Donald, are given weekend jobs hunting escaped tomga, a newly discovered rat-like species butchered for its exotic meat.

The Fevered Possessed
Fourth-grader, Jerry Lacter, strips to his waist during a noon recess on a January day in Wisconsin. He complains he’s hot but the playground supervisor sends him to the principals’ office. Tina, Jerry’s friend, redirects the boy to the nurse’s office instead. His body exudes an enormous amount of heat.

Ghoulish
Someone has been breaking into Milwaukee morgues and stealing body parts. The police find their suspect when they apprehend Sam Pechinski, lapping up blood, at the scene of a fatal traffic accident. The suspect admits guilt, claiming he is on the verge of “transformation.”

Pagan Exorcist
Annie, a millennium-old witch, is disturbed at dawn when a teenage boy knocks on her door. A demon has possessed the boy and now asks the witch to exorcise him.

Preternatural Valentine
Charlie gets an anonymous Valentine’s Card at his job in Santa Barbara, CA. He’s instantly suspicious and thinks his boss and coworkers have conspired against him. After he leaves work that evening on Valentine’s Day, Charlie is introduced to his genuine secret admirer. Despite renewed hope and expectations, it ends badly.

Heart of the Snowman
Two young sorcerers in Southern Wisconsin have an opportunity to animate a snowman with a dead man’s heart. Rob first must know why Mr Jelinshek showed up at Tim’s house, he distrusts his friend and fellow alchemist while they explore the Dark Arts.

The Unburnt Bush
Donna Montanay interviews Marsha Pinot, an old sorority friend and internationally famous multimedia artist. She accompanies the artist to a gallery in La Crosse, Wisconsin to see a paper mache labia and mysterious pool of shadow, both components to the piece of artwork called “The Unburnt Bush.”

The Unbreathing
Paul Murry rushes his unresponsive wife, Barb, to the hospital after the woman collapses and stops breathing. While traveling, the Murry’s are in an accident caused by a man an EMT, named Allen, suspected suffered road rage.

Portal Painter
Debbie Menon hopes to become a professional painter in Los Angeles. Her mural in a pizzeria catches the interest of a local screenwriter, who pays Debbie thousands of dollars to paint a pattern on his concrete patio. The screenwriter tells Debbie the design is a “portal.”

Trade paperback available at LULU.COM. The ebook, in a variety of formats, is available at Smashwords.